


Intoxicated

by BaredWolf



Series: First Kiss Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, First Kiss, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf/pseuds/BaredWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first mistake was getting Cas drunk. </p><p>Or, Cas may be a lightweight, but he sure isn't shy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intoxicated

His first mistake was getting Cas drunk.

Well, no his first mistake was probably dressing the dude in his own clothing. Cas’s trenchcoat and suit had been truly nasty by the time they recovered him; after forcing him to shower (“Yes, you have to man, you reek. No, Cas, you have to use soap. Yes really.”) Dean had volunteered a pair of jeans and a shirt until they could get him something of his own. The clothing hung a little loose on Cas, revealing a figure that was just not fair. Add in the fact that Dean had always had a thing for clothes sharing and some whiskey, and Dean’s first mistake was definitely those jeans.

It had started innocently enough. He, Sam, and Cas were eating dinner, and Dean just set out beers for all of them without thinking. After the meal, he and Cas were digging through the Men of Letters old spells pantry, so he snagged them a few more beers. And brought a bottle of whiskey along with him.

It turned out that Cas was a serious lightweight. Kind of made sense; Dean supposed this counted as the guy’s first time drinking. But three beers in and he was starting to get chatty. He’d asked if Dean would appreciate being gifted porn, or if the gift would only be acceptable if pie was included. He kept staring at Dean. Okay, staring more than usual. And if he wasn’t staring, he was bending over to dig for something on a low shelf (goddamnit those jeans), or reaching up to grab something off of a high one (goddamnit those hipbones). And now Dean was the one doing the staring. Yep, the jeans were definitely his first mistake.

He took another swig straight from the bottle, thinking. Cas sidled up to him, the two leaning back against a long workbench. He proffered the bottle, raising his eyebrows in question. Cas accepted wordlessly, coughing as the whiskey burned down his throat.

“This feels different,” Cas said. He turned his head to look at Dean; floppily tipping it towards his shoulder. Dean wondered if the world made more sense to Cas when it was slightly sideways.

“What does?”

“This. Uh, drinking alcohol. I feel it…more.”

“More than the time you drank an entire liquor store?”

“It’s more…immediate.” Cas frowned as his lips formed the word; he mouthed it silently, feeling his way around the consonants and vowels. “Everything is. I never knew how much humans feel. It can be consuming.” He laughed a little, to himself. “It can be distracting.” He handed the bottle back to Dean, who took another swig.

“Distracting?” Dean parroted back. So the whiskey wasn’t making him particularly eloquent. Fuck it.

Cas laughed, like there was a joke buried in there somewhere that he wasn’t sharing with Dean. “This morning. When I woke up, I had a, uh, a boner.” He laughed again. “I masturbated, Dean, for the first time. You know, I used to wonder why human males paid more heed to their penises than to common sense. Could’ve prevented a lot of wars. But now I think I get it.” He pulled the whiskey bottle from Dean’s too-loose grasp. “It’s fucking spectacular.”

Dean wasn’t sure if it was the mental image of Cas discovering his first morning wood, or the idea that he had been doing the same thing only one room over, or the understanding of where that dopey grin Cas wore while they drank their coffee had come from, or the fact that he had just heard Cas drop his first f-bomb. But somewhere in there, his jaw had gone slack and all of the blood in his head had decided to migrate south. He felt a little dizzy. And like he was about to be outed in the most embarrassing possible manner.

Cas thunked the bottle down on the workbench next to him, before shifting and turning so he was standing in front of Dean. He braced his hands on the workbench on either side of Dean’s hips. He leaned in close and whispered in Dean’s ear,

“Do you want to know what I thought about?” Dean swallowed, trying to form words. Cas wasn’t waiting for an answer. He took a step closer; barely an inch separated them now and Dean could feel the heat radiating off of Cas’s body. “I found fantasy increased the pleasure, Dean. Especially when I thought of you.” Cas moved his head back enough to meet Dean’s eyes. Helpless, Dean glanced at those pink lips, involuntarily licking his own. Cas smiled, the cheshire grin of a man who just discovered he was about to get everything he ever wanted. But he didn’t move.

“Cas,” Dean said softly, and was that rasped syllable his voice? Tentative (why was he so nervous?) he lifted a hand to Cas’s shoulder. He’d touched him here before, but never quite like this. Never as preamble, never with his head swimming like this. It had been years since whiskey affected him this way; he wondered if he could still blame the whiskey for this. He could feel Cas’s breath against his face. Still nervous, his heart threatening to claw its way out of his throat if he didn’t do something soon, he closed the distance between them, drawing Cas flush against him as he brushed their lips together.

Cas’s reaction was incendiary. His hands flew up from the workbench to tangle in Dean’s hair, cup his jaw, stroke down his throat. Tongues and teeth and the slick slide of lips: with his mouth, Cas drew sounds from Dean that he would never own up to making. Cas bit gently at his lower lip as he finally pulled away. He smiled, but there was a note of caution in his eyes. Dean was desperate to erase it: this, here, this was right, this was them, this was how they should be. He pressed his lips to Cas’s again, gentle and chaste, before murmuring,

“I think I need to hear more about those fantasies.”


End file.
